It’s the perennial problem – the wife wants a Spring holiday, but my training plan doesn’t have a “take a week of rest days lying on a sun lounger” session in it. As I‘m trying to get into (a smaller) shape before a London to Paris in July, what could I do? To be fair, it was actually said wife who suggested Lake Garda, so I jumped at the chance and got straight on to Mata bikes in Salo to rent a bike so I could get some decent hill climbing in.
Cycling in Lake Garda
The first thing I noticed when I got out on the road was that the Italians in Lombardy absolutely love their cycling – it was like Box Hill on a summer Bank Holiday everywhere I went. Also, they love their gear. I felt quite left out in a plain old, single coloured top, as everyone else, whether on a Pinarello or a sit up and beg butcher’s bike, had full, matching pro cycling team kit on – the larey-er the colours, the better. I think that was what made them go flying past me on some of the climbs – clearly that gear makes you go faster.
We stayed at the Grande Hotel in Gardone Riviera, an absolutely beautiful, picture postcard setting which was frequented by, among others, Churchill and Mussolini. Having read a history of the hotel in the bar, it turns out Churchill actually used to stay in our room – 310; I thought I could smell cigars.
There is a road that runs round the back of Gardone called Via Panoramica. Again, my Italian’s not brilliant, but I suspect that “Via” means “Road” and “Panoramica” means “Really Long And Really Steep, What Were You Thinking Going Up Here On A Road Bike”. It runs from the North of the town up to a lovely little village called St Michelle, and from the South to the same spot via a hamlet called Syrniga. The Southern route is the harder of the two – according to Map My Ride, it’s a category 2, but the Northern one is longer, albeit less steep – category 3. What was good about these climbs was that, living in Surrey, we have the odd steep climb in reach – White Down, Ditchling Beacon, Turner’s Hill, etc. – but they are relatively short, whereas these are good old 10k plus climbs with no respite so a whole different set of challenges.
St Michelle, 500m
I was going up nice and steadily when I was joined by a bloke on a mountain bike – adorned in full BMC pro team kit – who rode with me to the top and chatted. Well, I say “chatted”, he chatted in Italian, I responded with grunts and pants and the odd word where I could get one out. There are about 20 hairpin bends on this bit, and each one had a really steep section as you round it. The maximum grade recorded on the GPS was 24.6% (!), but only for a very, very short distance. One good thing about hairpins, of course – you can’t see just how much hill is left to climb up; you can only see to the next bend. It’s also pretty satisfying as you round one and look way down to the road you’ve just done.
Although I was hanging on to the bars and just concentrating on getting up the hill, Mr. Mountain bike unwrapped and started eating an energy bar. Then his phone rang, so he answered that as well. 20% incline and he’s riding with no hands – I’ve got a way to go yet to get to that standard…
Once you get to Syringa, there’s a nice downhill section where you can rest and take water, and we started to fly down this at a rate of knots. Now, Italian roads are generally really good quality, but, as luck would have it, there is one huge pothole on this section. My new mate must have seen it, but didn’t move over or give me any room, so I had to leap on the brakes and plough through it, almost flying over the Armco and into the freezing meltwater of the Gardone valley in the process. As I recovered, he said in perfect pidgin “Too fast is verr donjeroos”, and cycled off. Cheers, mate!
So, hardest part over, a lovely 10k downhill to rest and get ready to come back up the longer hill. Having done it a couple of times already, I knew I could push it a bit so went up quite a bit quicker than before. After a couple of Ks climbing, I was starting to feel good about my performance when I rounded hairpin bend number 97 (or so it seemed) only to find an old Italian woman of well over pensionable age pushing a wheelbarrow full of olives at, it has to be said, not much of a slower pace than I was managing! A cyclist also shot past near the top with exactly the same bike as mine, so I assume he must have a better helmet or nicer shoes or something else that meant he could go faster – can’t have been his (lower) age, (lower) weight or (greater) ability, surely.
So a last descent down the Northern leg, which was nothing short of exhilarating. The view is so spectacular that you do find yourself looking down to the lake, wobbling and almost coming off at the best views. I was tempted to have a look over the barrier and see how many bikes were down there from those who looked a couple of seconds too long. Having reached the bottom, a flying mile back into Gardone for a well earned beer. I’m not surprised Italians are good at cycling, as, apart from the obvious high percentage of pasta and pizza diet, you get a big bowl of crisps, pretzels, and numerous other free carbs with every drink. All very welcome after an epic ride like that.
One question I haven’t answered is what is it actually like to cycle in Italy? Well, the roads are as smooth as a road bikers legs; no pot holes or raised bits of tarmac where a cable company has badly patched a trench. Also, don’t believe what you hear about Italian drivers – they all showed a lot of respect for cyclists; passed with loads of room, gave way when they were supposed to, and didn’t drive right up your backside until they could squeeze past. Maybe I’m looking at a small sample, but cruising smoothly round Lombardy was way more pleasant and safe than bouncing round the potholes of Berrylands avoiding boy racers.
Lake Garda – great hills, the Giro on the telly, beer by a beautiful lake. What’s not to like?
Mr Doo On A Bike 
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